Whydah glanced sidelong at the half-elf and gnome as they sat around the fire, the flickering light constantly painting then removing shadows from their faces. Her eyes narrowed.
“So, why exactly are you going to the abbey?”
The party had just dined on a buffet of shared rations augmented with fresh raspberries, wild turkey, and two trout foraged nearby. Glynfir bought some time by taking a bite of elf bread as he and Lunish shared a look. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, the gnome shrugged, idly tossing a piece of grass into the fire before answering the wizard’s unasked question.
“Go ahead. I don’t see any harm in telling them… In fact… I think I’m done with this secrecy bullshit altogether.” The druid waved her hand in the air dismissively.
Glynfir nodded, popping the last bite of elf bread into his mouth. Brushing the crumbs off his hands while he chewed, he told the group about the Radiant Guardians, their mission to the Luminarium and the rudimentary magical communication with their employers. As he finished, Segwyn asked,
“So, they don’t tell you why they want to know or what they plan to do with the information?”
“Never.”
“…Or warn us about potential danger,” Lunish added, the accusation palpable in her voice.
“It’s possible they didn’t know…” Whydah offered
Segwyn grunted, “In my experience, people in power always hold back some detail if it helps them get what they want.”
Propping himself up on his elbows, feet crossed towards the fire, Bird spoke for the first time.
“Safe to assume this is the first time the work has led to combat?”
Lunish dropped her gaze, staring into the fire’s embers, nodding.
“Wasn’t it obvious? Not that I consider myself some hardened warrior, but I can’t even protect my friends in battle…pathetic.”
The Tabby pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling his legs back from the fire’s edge, but Segwyn spoke first.
“Just because you didn’t, doesn’t mean you can’t…Don’t equate what you’re capable of with your reaction in one specific moment. I’ve seen many highly trained warriors freeze when things got real – particularly the first time.” He glanced subtly across the fire to Neril, making eye contact momentarily before returning to Lunish. “It’s more mental than anything else.”
“He’s right,” Bird added, fully engaged in the discussion. “In battle, things happen quickly. Your most powerful weapon is the one between your ears.” The tabby tapped his temple. “Often, when the dust settles, what separates the living from the dead isn’t pure skill, it’s quick thinking – being able to assess the situation and apply the skills you have for maximum effect.” The druid considered for a moment before asking,
“Well and good, but you still need some skill. I suck with weapons. All the quick wit in the world can’t overcome that!”
It was Glynfir’s turn to chime in.
“Lulu, you’re being too literal. It doesn’t have to be a sword or a bow. Your magic is your greatest weapon. Look at me…”
“But your magic is designed for that. Mine is nature-based – it’s for helping people.”
Segwyn challenged the gnome.
“Is it? Or is that just how you were taught to use it? Nature can be a pretty destructive force…” Lunish lowered her gaze and furrowed her brow as she considered his remark. The group went silent. Whydah put her hand on the gnome’s shoulder and spoke in a more diplomatic tone.
“A lot of my bardic spells are like yours. If it helps, I cast a lot of magic to enhance abilities or protect the others during combat …if you aren’t comfortable using your magic to destroy.”
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“You could be a real badass if you think differently about how you use magic, and play to your strengths,” Bird proposed.
Lunish was puzzled. “How do you figure?”
“Well…” The Tabby stood, brushing the dirt from the back of his pants, “Let me tell you what I saw today.” He extended his outstretched hands towards the fire’s warmth. “When we got to the corner, I saw a three-foot tall druid – with no armor - standing toe to toe with a seven-foot demon.” The cat’s performance instincts took over, his voice rising into a story-telling cadence as he began to act out the scene - adopting a defensive fighting stance. “Not only were you prepared to go there, but you were also willing to do it…” He straightened his posture and held up his open hand, “… with a carpenter’s hammer!”
Pausing for effect, Bird turned his palm up and extended it towards Lunish - silently requesting the hammer. Unsure where this was going, the bewildered gnome retrieved it from her pack, placing the haft into his hand before returning to her seat by the fire.
Now properly equipped, the feline crouched low, resuming his defensive posture and fireside theatrics.
“Facing a creature twice your size, staring death in the face, you refused to abandon Grym. You didn’t run, you didn’t even flinch.” He pointed the head of the hammer at the druid. “I don’t know many warriors with that kind of courage and determination.” Shifting the hammer first to Whydah, and then to Segwyn and the Verdant Blades, the cat raised his eyebrows. “Agree?”
A chorus of enthusiastic nods and confirmations rose around the fire. Lunish smiled in surprise. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, she lowered her head in embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.
He spun back around to face the druid. “But… if you keep fighting like that…” his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “…we’ll be burying you next to your dwarven friend.”
He straightened once again to his full height, holding the hammer aloft. “This is not a weapon.” Reaching back, the Tabby hurled it over his head towards the water. Twirling end over end, the tool quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the audible rush of air around its form that ended in a distant splash as it met the river’s surface. Surprised by Bird’s impulsiveness, Segwyn let out a deep belly laugh.
The gnome stood up, scowling, “That’s all I have…” She looked over her shoulder towards the sound of rushing water. “Well… had...” Bird held up a finger, begging her patience, before flicking his wrist, instantly producing a sheathed dagger from his leathers. “That’s Grym’s!”
The cat nodded. “…and far better than that hammer!” He extended the blade, pommel first towards her. As she reached to accept it, he pulled it back slightly, locking her gaze with his yellow feline stare. “Let his memory inspire you to find another solution whenever you’re forced to draw it. You are a warrior of magic – at your best attacking from behind the main combat. If you’re fighting with this, it’s a big red flag.” Re-extending his reach, he handed her the blade before returning to his original seat by the fire without another word.
Segwyn looked across the fire at Whydah. “Is he always this dramatic?”
The halfling rolled her eyes. “You have no idea!”
The fire’s occasional hiss, signaling its intention to resist being extinguished, announced the arrival of light rain.
“Thank you all for the suggestions and support. I’m not sure the combat lifestyle is something I could ever get used to.” Lunish raised her head to the sky. “We’re about to get wet. We should find some shelter. It may be a long and uncomfortable night.”
“Great… This day keeps getting better!” Glynfir muttered sarcastically under his breath.
“Not to worry,” Whydah said brightly. “I’ve got it covered. If you would all gather around the packs…” She gestured towards the pile of gear behind her. Taking their cue from Bird, familiar with the circumstances, Lunish and Glynfir rose and joined the cat at the indicated location. The ranger and his team stood but made no move towards the others.
“Will you join us Segwyn?” Whydah asked as her hands started to weave patterns in the air, the flashes of white energy competing with the fire to light their surroundings. “I can offer warm and dry accommodations – totally secure!”
The ranger chuckled. “Thanks for the offer, but we already set up.” He swept his arm towards a group of tents across the clearing. “Plus, we’re heading out at first light, before the tracks wash out. So, this may be farewell… at least for now. Good luck on your travels to the abbey tomorrow.”
Whydah paused for the two groups to exchange handshakes, thank-yous, and goodbyes. As the Verdant Blades retired to the tents, the others resumed their position and the bard began again. The rain fell harder as she started humming a soft tune, her fingers moving in time to the melody. As they waited expectantly, Bird pointed overhead where a white mote of energy began to spin, initially forming a circular disc before expanding into a clear hemispheric dome twenty feet in diameter around their position. The hollow sound of deflected rain grew in proportion to the dome’s surface area. When it reached the ground, the circle of white sparkling energy contracted to enclose the area beneath their feet, ending in a faint pop as it reached the center of the magical floor. Spell completed, Whydah rose. With a snap of her fingers, the interior of the dome was bathed in dim light. She turned to the group, her arms spread wide, and gave a slight bow.
“Welcome to my tiny hut!”
The wizard giggled. “Oh, I like this spell a lot!”